Hmmm. — 3 years ago
I bought this book for my mother for Christmas when this book was still new. I scoured the bookstore for something she might like. I even asked one of the overworked staff for advice. He recommended Tatum O’Neil’s autobiography, on the merit that it was too awful for words. I kept looking.
I should probably add that I’d already bought my mother a book for Christmas, which I had to return because my stepfather decided to buy her the same book. He had also decided that he was going to be the one to give her said book and I was going to be the one roaming the aisles of a crowded bookstore a week before the big day.
So after the O’Neil lover abandoned me for another customer, I was in the new release section, borderline catatonic. And suddenly, Julie and Julia caught my eye. Mostly it was the cover. Green is a very soothing color, and I could relate to the whisk collapsed on it’s side.
The premise seemed very cool: A woman cooks her way through Julia Child in a tiny kitchen during her thirtieth year. Sounded good. I bought it, wrapped it, and gave it to my mother, whose only comment upon reading it was, “She seems a little self-involved.”
I completely forgot about the book until I was sitting in a movie theater and all of a sudden, Amy Adams and Meryl Streep popped up. A movie! From a book! From a blog! (Is it just me, or shouldn’t Meryl Streep exist in a world where blogs don’t exist?)
So I figured I’d finally read the book. And…eh.
I just kept waiting for the revelation. Why adapt a blog into a memoir, anyway? Isn’t that redundant? Why not a novel? At least that would let her fictionalize and put in some kind of theme or at least an ending.
And yes, like my mother, I found it terribly self-involved.